She didn’t have to wear shorts, but it was dead in the middle of August; the hottest month of the year. She rubbed her hands over her thighs, and bi... her lip. She glanced one more time in the mirror, letting go of her thick bottom lip before stepping reluctantly out of the car. She felt exposed before she had even reached his door, noticing for the first time that day the way her shorts rubbed against the soft flesh of her inner thighs and inched up with each step. Mr. Burgess had never. "Nooo, pllllease, I didn't even bend over a whole lot of times," she protested. Of course I knew that she really meant the exact opposite, as I pulled up the hem of her dress to expose her creamy backside. "No panties!" I roared, "now in addition to the hand you're going to get the belt!" "No I didn't do anything no, no, no," she whined again. "Yes, yes, yes, and we'll start by counting 20 from my hand," I said as I landed the first stinging swat on her. More

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